Feedback Friday :: Sometimes There’s No Poison Like A Dream

bicycle rides :: 4
punctures :: 1
bicycles ruined in effort to fix puncture :: 1
days remaining till return to London :: 37

Yesterday I went to London and spent an hour and a half in the belly of the behemoth. It’s still not sure whether they’ll let me do the job, but I do hope so. It’s a one-off thing, making some tiny films for a giant accountant. It seems easy to me, but just because something seems easy doesn’t mean you can do it. It’s about getting the tone right. Fingers crossed anyway.

On the train on the way back up North last night, I realised I was sitting painfully close to a girl wearing a face mask…



I don’t honestly know if she had Swine Flu or if she was trying to protect against Swine Flu or if she merely had SARS in her eyes. I do not know, and I didn’t wait to find out. Rather, I took the advice of the Daily Mail and fled to the other end of train, screaming, ‘Black Death! Black Death! The Day of Judgement is upon us!’

Speaking of Swine Flu, when my bike broke the other morning roughly seven miles from home and I walked back through sporadically pissing rain and filthy temper, my ire was soothed – or at least temporarily cloaked – by listening again to Under Milk Wood in my ears. In one scene, Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard dreams that she is lying in bed with each of her dead husbands – Mr Ogmore, and Mr Pritchard – and she addresses them thus:

MRS OGMORE-PRITCHARD

Soon it will be time to get up.

Tell me your tasks, in order.

MR OGMORE

I must put my pyjamas in the drawer marked pyjamas.

MR PRITCHARD

I must take my cold bath which is good for me.

MR OGMORE

I must wear my flannel band to ward off sciatica.

MR PRITCHARD

I must dress behind the curtain and put on my apron.

MR OGMORE

I must blow my nose.

MRS OGMORE-PRITCHARD

In the garden, if you please.

MR OGMORE

In a piece of tissue-paper which I afterwards burn.

MR PRITCHARD

I must take my salts which are nature's friend.

MR OGMORE

I must boil the drinking water because of germs.

MR PRITCHARD

I must make my herb tea which is free from tannin.

MR OGMORE

And have a charcoal biscuit which is good for me.

MR PRITCHARD

I may smoke one pipe of asthma mixture.

MRS OGMORE-PRITCHARD

In the woodshed, if you please.

MR PRITCHARD

And dust the parlour and spray the canary.

MR OGMORE

I must put on rubber gloves and search the peke for fleas.

MR PRITCHARD

I must dust the blinds and then I must raise them.

MRS OGMORE-PRITCHARD

And before you let the sun in, mind it wipes its shoes.

Put me in mind of it, you see.

Dylan Thomas had just turned 39 when he died.

Christ, I feel miserable today.

It could be the panic of poverty building up. In 39 days I’ll be back in London, and living in London is not as easy as living with your grandmother, wallet-wise. And she’s going to miss me, and I feel bad about that. Or it could be because I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to get the pain in my stomach checked out again and what really worries me is that yet again they won’t fucking find anything and that in less than eighteen months I will die of gastric cancer. I know thinking about this stuff probably doesn’t help... but I can’t stop myself.

Whenever someone dies at an early age, people say, ‘Oh, it was tragic – he never achieved his potential’ – but what if I die in my early 30s and I did achieve my potential?! Eh? What about that?

Alright, alright, no more whining, no more thinking about death.

Erm….

Doing anything nice this weekend?

I’m not.

Swine Flu Unmasked :: It’s War

This weekend Home Secretary Alan Johnson admitted that Swine Flu is now a more substantial threat to this country than terrorism. Ministers are discussing the emergency implementation of 24-hour crematoria and inflatable mortuaries. They’re even talking about stopping people going to see football matches. It’s official – the UK is now a matter of minutes away from a Swine Flu Panic Pandemic. Currently, 19 of every 1000 newspaper and internet articles are in some way flu-panic-related. When this figure reaches 20 – any second now – we will officially have a Pandemic Panic Epidemic on our hands. Phase 11. And are we prepared? Well, despite what Alan Johnson says, no we are not. But is this heightened state of panic really justified? Or do we have another Bird Flu on our hands? All screeching pundits and no mass graves.

Well, let’s look at the facts. OK. Face-masks on…

* What are the symptoms of Swine Flu?

The primary symptoms are as follows:

- sudden fever
- sudden cough
- sudden sneeze
- aches and pains
- sore throat
- fatigue
- nausea
- dismay
- vomiting
- diarrhoea
- bad credit
- watery eyes
- loss of appetite
- sense of moral unease and general foreboding
- prickling sensation in the coccyx (heralding appearance of short curly tail)

If you have, or develop, or suspect you might be about to develop any or all of the above, you probably already have Swine Flu.

* What can I do to avoid catching Swine Flu?

If it’s not already too late, nothing. But if futile gestures are your thing, stay home, wash your hands every fifteen minutes and rinse all fruit and vegetables thoroughly (soak for more impressive gesture).

* How is Swine Flu contracted?

Swine Flu is highly contagious and is spread through coughs, sneezes and any kind of physical contact with any infected surface. Infected surfaces may include door handles, toilet seats, computer keyboards and the very surface of the air.

* Can I catch it from kissing?

Yes.



* Are there any age groups particularly at risk?

Yes, high-risk groups are the under-5s, the over-65s and anyone in the 6-64 age bracket. Of those, 25-45-year-olds are actually most at risk. This last fact is especially worrying as it is reminiscent of the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918 which also favoured that demographic, and went on to kill up to a hundred million people. Did you hear that? A HUNDRED MILLION.

* I heard the other day that it’s dangerous to conceive at the moment. But then the government said that was just scaremongering. I’m confused. And scared. May I conceive? I am ovulating.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that conceiving at this point would be tantamount to infanticide. Pregnant women are easy prey to Swine Flu as they are too busy nurturing their unborn progeny to adequately defend against the virus. Do not get pregnant. Whatever you do.

* I’m pregnant! Should I be panicking?

Yes!!! Pregnancy is hard enough at the best of times. Pregnancy in the middle of a panic pandemic is positively pandemonium. If you are pregnant, under no circumstances use public transport. If at all possible, don’t leave the house at all. Any babies you must have, have them at home. And home-school them.

* If I go on holiday, what is the risk I will catch it on the flight?

The risk is panic-teasingly high. Thankfully, many airlines have already initiated moves to monitor passengers and if they exhibit symptoms, to turn them away with cattle prods and Tasers.

If a Flu Carrier does manage to make it aboard the same plane as you, that’s pretty much it. The viral equivalent of September 11th. Swine Eleven. You’ll be coughing up blood before the sandwiches arrive. Switch your phone back on and say your last goodbyes.

* But I’m going to Xinjiang on Wednesday. It’s all booked and everything.

Cancel it. Swine Flu is global. If you contract it abroad, you may very well be quarantined and later transported to a Swine Flu colony or ‘trough’, and gassed.

* What can I do if I suspect my neighbour has Swine Flu?

If you suspect it, report it. If you think you have seen a person acting suspiciously or displaying any of the symptoms of Swine Flu, immediately move away and call 999. The government Rat on a Swine Action Hotline should be up and running any month now. In the meantime, be firm. Ostracise anyone you suspect and paint a large red cross on their front door in the night.

* I have bad hay fever and my neighbour suspects I have Swine Flu. I woke up in the night to find him painting a red cross on my front door. What should I do?

Take the consequences. Every war has casualties. If we let you under the radar, where do we draw the line? Before we know it, we’ll be letting in bronchitis, tuberculosis, emphysema, pneumonia, AIDS.

* I have Swine Flu. What hope is there for me?

No hope. Put your affairs in order, make your peace with those you will leave behind, paint a large red cross on your front door and wait for the end. You should not leave the house under any circumstances, but if for some reason you choose to, wear a white pillowcase with a red cross on it and ring a bell at all times. Be aware, you will be shot dead.

* Have any famous people died from Swine Flu yet?

So far, just one.



But it’s early days.

* Is there anywhere I can go for unbiased expert help on the subject?

No, there is not. You’re probably talking about a kind of national flu hotline, something like the one the government swore blind, in November 2007, would be ‘ready for instant implementation’ as soon as the WHO declared Pandemic Alert Phase 5, which happened in April this year. Since then, despite repeated promises and a steadily rising body count, FluLine has yet to materialise. And the rest is just a vast spluttering cacoughony of cynical, manipulative hogwash.

* Wait, wait. Is there a vaccine?

Pffft.

Really, the absolute best you can do is die in style with one of these humorous Japanese animal masks.

Cough.